Superphantom
by The Cinderninja
Summary: Really, the evening had been doomed from the start.


**Mossmask: This is a companion to "****Motnahprepus" by sapphireswimming. I wrote this as a gift for sapphires and in response she wrote a fic which is basically the same thing but from the Winchester's pov.**

**She's the one who got me to start reading Superphantom in the first place even though I have never seen the show before in my life. (I may have seen one or two episodes from the first season when it first aired). I have every intention of continuing to read Superphantom, and possibly to continue writing Superphantom in conjunction with sapphires. I have absolutely zero intention of ever watching the show.**

**I pulled all of the knowledge for this from my combined tumblr and ffn experiences to create this Superphantom masterpiece. I made jokes that I don't understand even a little. My friends have assured me that they're hilarious, even if I don't know why. So, without further delay, I present to you _something_.**

**~Cya on the other side**

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><p>Up until that point, it had been a completely normal day. So normal it was practically <em>abnormal, <em>considering what life was usually like for the three teens. Danny and Sam were head to head on a brand new fighting game that Sam had brought over, a whole month before the official release date. Meanwhile, Tucker was watching them from his perch hanging upside down with his feet thrown over the back of the La-Z-Boy, shoveling pizza into his apparently bottomless stomach.

The parents were out of town for the night at a convention a few towns over, and Jazz was at the library. There'd been a lull in ghost action lately - not enough yet to have them worried, but enough to allow for a good chunk of free time, not to mention a much appreciated opportunity to catch up on sleep. Danny hadn't felt this well rested in months, and he couldn't remember the last time they'd had a full evening of uninterrupted junk food and gaming.

So really, the evening had been doomed from the start.

There was a knock at the door. Seeing that the two "lovebirds" were tied up in a surprisingly close match (Sam was still smoking Danny, but he was failing much less of a landslide then usual), Tucker slipped off his chair and ran to go check the door. All normal fare for normal people.

It was Tucker's far _less_ normal reaction of screaming like a girl and throwing his pizza at the visitors that marked the end of the normalcy. Sam and Danny dropped their controllers and looked up just in time to see Tucker slam the door shut, face pale.

"What?" Sam cried as she climbed over the couch, switching into crisis-mode. "Who was it?" She asked, glancing over at the door. Danny merely remained on the couch, watching Tucker and the front door warily, trying to decide which one should worry him more at the moment.

"_LARPers_." Tucker whispered. "They've come for me. _Hide me_." he squeaked. And then he was gone up the stairs. Faint sounds of scooting and bumping reached down to them, the sounds of Tucker's mad scramble to climb under Danny's bed.

"Whaaat was that about?" Danny asked slowly, still sitting on the couch, not quite willing to get up yet, especially when he was already familiar with his best-friend-since-forever's frequent antics and overreactions.

"I have no idea." Sam deadpanned before turning back to the door and very cautiously pulling it open a crack, peeking outside. There on Danny's front porch stood two men. The short one had pizza sauce stains smeared down his shirt, which he appeared to be eating. The pizza, that is. Not the shirt. Beyond _that_, which was admittedly a bit disgusting, Sam couldn't spot anything which would make their friend run screaming.

Sam blinked. "Didn't... my friend just _throw_ that at you?" She asked slowly.

The man blinked at her, chewing his pizza very slowly. Finally, he swallowed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I've had this the whole time."

The beginnings of an awkward silence descended, threatening to turn into something more, before the taller one finally coughed loudly. "Is this..." he paused uncomfortably. "FentonWorks?" He asked finally.

Sam stared at him. She slowly pointed a finger upwards at the _giant neon sign_ jutting out of the side of the building.

"... How did we miss that?" The short one asked between mouthfuls of pizza.

Danny joined Sam at the door at some point during their explanation, just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.

"- paranormal investigators. And we'd been lead to believe that the Fentons have some really unique items that could help people like us, so we were hoping…"

Danny hummed doubtfully as he glanced over both of them. No jumpsuits. No motorcycles. No white suits. No giant, tacky, glowing weaponry. They weren't quite in 'street-clothes', but they still easily passed as normal human beings. A label which had yet to apply to any ghost hunter, or paranormal investigator, that Danny had ever met to date. "Really? You seem way too normal to be paranormal investigators."

As if anticipating this argument, the two of them whipped out very official looking IDs to show the children. Sam stared at them blankly for a moment. "Wait. Paranormal Investigators get IDs? Who are these _issued _by?"

"They _do?_" Danny asked, snatching one. "Why don't _we _have any?!" His indignation seemed to disappear as he suddenly froze, pausing as he slowly looked over the paper in his hands. "Um. This says your name is James T. Kirk."

"I don't think they actually do." Sam continued, distracted by her train of thought. "I mean, unless they were a government agency like the GIW, why _would_ they?"

"Lemme see that one." Danny stated, snatching the other ID still dangling from the other man's outstretched hand as Sam continued pondering to herself aloud.

"That would be like me having an ID _identifying_ me as a goth. Like... what?" She peered at the two men. "Where _did _you get these? Are you two like, hobbyists? Are you affiliated with an organization or agency?"

"This says Spock. It actually says Spock." Danny announced, his pitch going up with his disbelief as he handed both IDs back, blinking owlishly at the two strangers. "Um. Yeah. I'm not letting you into my house. Come back and try again tomorrow when my parents are home." He added before they could argue. "They'll probably fall for this." He explained, quickly stepping back inside and shutting the door, locking it carefully.

He and Sam turned to stare at each other. "That was-"

"Weird." Sam finished.

They were back on the couch continuing their video game only a few minutes later, but no amount of shouting through the house and swearing that the LARPers weren't coming in would convince Tucker it was safe to come down.

The incident was almost forgotten fifteen minutes later, until the sound of an engine and keys in the door announced Jazz's return from the library. Expecting her to go straight to her room, Danny and Sam were equally alarmed when she walked into the living room and stared at the two of them.

"Why is there a moose on our porch?"

"What." Danny deadpanned.

Jazz made eye contact. "I blame you."

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><p><strong>~Dash out<strong>


End file.
